Pieces Of Quinn
by readbetweenthesigns
Summary: *One shot* Rated M for language. Something strange is happening to Noah Puckerman, can he figure it out in time?


**Disclaimer: No claim to ownership. At all. Thank you.**

**A/: Just a little one shot because I'm at work and bored. All the students have gone out partying for someone's birthday, so I'm left all alone in the residence and it's Friday night so why wouldn't you?**

"What you got there?" Finn asked, peering over Puck's shoulder.

Puck turned away from his locker, sweetly perfumed pink envelope in his hand. "Fucked if I know," he frowned. "That's the third one this week," he said, looking up at Finn.

"Maybe it's someone sending you early Christmas stuff," Finn suggested.

"Dude," Puck sighed, rolling his eyes. "I'm Jewish, I don't do Christmas. It's Hanukkah for us and it doesn't even start till next week," he explained. Again. Which bit was hard to understand? "Hello, my name is Noah Puckerman and I'm Jewish," he thought to himself. Puck let out a hefty sigh. "Looks like I'm going to have to set up surveillance of my own freakin' locker," he muttered. "I got better things to do with my time," he grumbled just as quietly. He lifted the envelope to his nose and sniffed it warily. He knew that scent. Not a clue where from, but it was familiar. "Finn, smell this," Puck demanded.

"No way," Finn laughed, "you've caught me out with that one before and seriously? Lighting farts is so junior high," he said, laughing as he walked away.

"Sam," Puck called. "Come here, smell this," he said, shoving the envelope under Sam's nose. "What does that smell like? It's familiar, don't you think?" he asked, still puzzled.

"I've smelt it before," Sam replied slowly, sniffing the delicate paper. "I can't place it but I know I've smelt it before. What is it?" he asked.

"That's the thing, I don't know," Puck replied, still puzzled. "This is the third one, the others just had a piece of a photograph in them, this feels the same," he said, stroking the envelope through his fingers.

"Well?" Sam asked, his gaze flicking between Puck and the envelope. "Aren't you going to open it?" he asked.

"Not yet," Puck replied, stowing the envelope safely in his back pack.

Puck went to class, still puzzling over the envelope. He found himself following girls through the hallways, sniffing them, trying to source the scent. Nothing.

Puck opened the envelope in the privacy of his bedroom. Another piece of a photograph. It didn't seem to join to the other pieces, no clue there. He couldn't find anything familiar in the background either. He sighed and slammed all the pieces down on his desk. "Fuck it," he sighed and picked up his Xbox controller. He got slaughtered on level four. He couldn't concentrate on his game either.

The following day, Puck got to school early. His was the first vehicle in the parking lot. He checked his locker…and found another envelope. "Who is _doing_ this?" he shouted in the empty hallway, his voice echoing back at him, mocking him. He opened the envelope and found another piece of photograph. He hadn't brought the other pieces so he didn't know if they matched. He checked the time, no, not enough time to get home and get back before school started. Crap. He sniffed the envelope. Just the same. A light, delicate scent, he knew that his nose knew the scent, he just couldn't connect it with anyone. "This is just freakin' **annoying**," he shouted the last word then looked around a little embarrassed. Shit, when had other people arrived? Puck, his head down, powered through the throng of students to his first class.

"There was another one today," Puck told Sam quietly as he took the seat next to Puck.

"Did you see who put it there?" Sam asked.

"No," admitted Puck, lounging back in his seat, "dude, this is bugging the life out of me," he complained. "I _know_ I know that perfume, and dude, between you and me," he added, speaking very quietly, checking that no one was listening. "It's like my dick remembers that scent too, every time I smell it," he nodded, motioning downwards, "it stirs something in the pants," he elaborated when Sam looked blank. "Jeez," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I mean I must have fucked this girl, whoever she is, at one time or other, I mean, my junk has powers, remembers every pussy it has ever been in," Puck bragged. "And that's a lot of pussy," he added unnecessarily.

"That's a strange and unusual talent," Sam replied slowly, not really sure what to do with that information.

"It's a gift, I know," Puck replied, a smirk on his face.

Puck waited after school. He hung around, watching his locker covertly. Lots of people passed, but no one stopped. By five thirty the janitor told Puck that if he didn't leave he was going to call the cops. Puck checked his locker one last time, nothing there, he left.

At home he put the pieces together. They still didn't connect. He couldn't figure it out and it was driving him nuts.

Next day Puck went into 'fuck it' mode. He went to school at the usual time, threw a freshman dweeb in the dumpster, slushied one of the AV kids then checked his locker. And found another envelope. He stood in front of his locker, pissed off in the extreme. "Alright," he shouted above the usual noise and clatter of students walking by to their classes. "Enough's enough," he shouted, raising the envelope above his head, waving it in the air. "Who keeps putting these in my locker?" he demanded. "Somebody must know something," he insisted. "There's never been a fucking secret kept in this school, everybody always knows everything," he growled, staring at people passing, looking at him like he'd lost his mind.

When Puck got home, he found that this piece didn't match anything either. This was getting ridiculous. "What the fuck is this?" he asked himself. He tried to think laterally, he tried objectively, he tried abstract, he tried everything. Nothing connected, nothing made sense, there wasn't anything that even tickled a memory, apart from the scent. And that was driving him wild. His bedroom was filled with the scent. The dreams that scent was invoking were hot, hot, **hot**, and incredibly real. If he didn't know any better he would swear that someone was sneaking into his room at night and using his body for their own pleasure while he slept. It certainly felt like it. Not that he minded the dreams, they were freakin' awesome. Well, if you're going to have a dream about a blow job your mind is going to make it awesome. Not many girls had ever been able to take the full length of him, swallowing it down their throa…oat. Not many at all. In fact only one he could think of.

Puck sat up on his bed, his heart pounding in his chest. No. It couldn't be. It just wasn't possible. Puck shot up off his bed and grabbed the pieces of photograph. He laid them on his desk, shuffling them round. Something caught his eye. He stopped focussing on the foreground and looked at the background. He sat back, a shiver going down his spine, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Puck shuffled the pictures one more time and read out the word they spelled.

A-L-I-V-E

"Oh my fucking God," Puck breathed.

Puck ran out of the house, calling some shit to his mom about not waiting up. He jumped in his truck and drove to Lima Memorial, disregarding every speed limit, light, anything that would slow him down or stop him.

He abandoned his truck at the entrance and ran inside. He flew past the elevator and ran up the stairs to the fifth floor. At the nurses' station, he took a few minutes to get his breath back, before he asked his question.

"When did Quinn wake up?" he asked, still breathing heavily, his mouth dry.

"Quinn Fabray?" the nurse asked, looking at Puck like he was a total idiot.

"You have any other Quinns on this ward?" he asked beligerantly.

"Look, Mr Puckerman," the nurse began, "I'll ignore your rudeness because I see the way you look at her when you're in with her, I see how you help her keep moving but you know I can't discuss anything with you," she frowned. "But if someone wanted to find something out about a certain patient they might want to get into room 504 right now. Like NOW," she insisted. "Jesus, Noah, go," she hissed when he didn't seem to be making a move.

Puck ran down the hall to Quinn's room. The room she'd been in since coming out of intensive care after her accident. The room he'd spent night after night in, playing his guitar, singing to her, talking to her, moving her arms and legs. The room where he admitted to her that he still loved her. Especially now.

Judy Fabray turned as the door to Quinn's room opened. The minister stopped speaking, his bible lowering slightly. Russell Fabray stepped closer to the door. "Can we help you?" he sneered at Puck.

"What are you doing?" Puck asked, taking a step into the room. Russell tried to block his way in. Puck looked at the doctor who was checking the machines. "What are you doing?" he asked again, his voice more demanding.

"Get out of here," Russell Fabray demanded, his voice deathly quiet. "We are about to lose our daughter, show a little respect."

"What do you mean?" Puck shouted. "She's not dead, no, she's not dead. I'd know, believe me, if she was dead I'd know," he struggled to say, his eyes darting around the room. "She's alive, she's still in there, please, don't do this," he begged as the doctor's hand landed gently on the power switch. "_PLEEEASE_," Puck begged, his eyes filling with tears. "Here, look, she's been getting these to me, I don't know how, but she has. Please, just listen to me, she's not…she's still here, she's still in here," he managed to say, his thoughts and words jumbled up like the pieces of photograph that he dropped on the bed. Puck's head gently met Quinn's, foreheads resting together, he couldn't quite manage to stop the little sob from escaping. He sucked it up, his hand disappearing under her neck. "Come on Q, show 'em. For me, please, I love you Q, don't leave me, don't let them do this," he begged, whispering to her.

"Leave now before I have you thrown out," Russell demanded, drawing himself up, puffing out his chest.

Puck saw red. "Oh yeah, you're good at that aren't you?" he said, standing upright, his voice quiet, very, very quiet. "Don't like something, throw it out. Daughter gets pregnant, throw her out. Did you ever tell her you knew Finn wasn't Beth's father? Did you ever tell her you knew I was with her in your house that night? Did you ever tell her that you tried to bribe me to get out of her life? Did you ever tell her what you offered me to get her to have an abortion?" Puck demanded, taking slow steps towards Russell Fabray. "She would never have done it and I would never have asked her to," he admitted. "You don't scare me. Have me arrested again, I don't care. Tell everybody I stole an ATM like you did last time, I don't care. I am _never _leaving her. Ever. I don't care what you put me through, you can't win, you won't win because she loves me too," he said simply.

Judy gasped. Throughout the argument between the two very angry males, her eyes had never left her daughter's face. She saw the flicker. She saw the jerk. She saw her daughter open her eyes. Judy Fabray fainted.

The room filled with people. Doctors, nurses, all rushing in, some to give attention to Judy, most to Quinn.

"P-uck," Quinn managed to say, just barely, when the tubes were removed from her throat. "Puck," she whispered.

"I'm here," Puck whispered. "I'm here, baby," he repeated. "I'm not going anywhere," he added, glaring at Russell Fabray, daring him to contradict.

"You got it," Quinn whispered huskily. "I came to you, I knew you'd stop them," she managed to say before she fell asleep.

"I told you she wasn't dead," Puck said quietly, turning his accusing gaze on Russell Fabray. "Why would you turn the machines off?" he asked. "Because she might not be able to walk? Because she might not be perfect?" he demanded. "Well fuck you," he sneered. "She _is _perfect," he insisted. "She's perfect to me, perfect for me," he added, smoothing the hair from her face. And he would make damn sure he told her that every day from now on. As long as she promised never to text and drive again.


End file.
